


may you help my heart remember and bring me home again

by Shadowcrawler, unwindmyself



Series: cause in our greatest conquest we are what fate depends [4]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Thor (Movies)
Genre: Canon Divergence - Post-Captain America: Civil War (Movie), Cuddling & Snuggling, Cunnilingus, F/F, Femslash, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Light Dom/sub, Post-Thor: Ragnarok (2017), Praise Kink, Rare Pairings, Slow Burn, Sparring, Vaginal Fingering
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-26
Updated: 2017-12-13
Packaged: 2019-02-07 01:17:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 18,248
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12830232
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shadowcrawler/pseuds/Shadowcrawler, https://archiveofourown.org/users/unwindmyself/pseuds/unwindmyself
Summary: After being banished from Asgard, Sif seeks out Steve and his team. She and Wanda become very close.





	1. I am waiting for you like a baby sparrow ready to take flight

**Author's Note:**

> First: guess Sif's not the Queen of Asgard after all. Oops. That would have been better, but then _Ragnarok_ wouldn't have happened as it did and also Sif would probably be dead if she had been in that movie at all so it's probably fine ultimately. The banishment thing is based on a comment by Feige about where Sif probably was during this movie. Sure, whatever. She's not dead and there is an opportunity to explore some similar themes here! Yay. Obviously, _Ragnarok_ spoilers!!!
> 
> Second: this is obviously post- _Civil War_. While we are very jazzed about the revelation that Steve and his - including Wanda - have been running secret missions and stuff since then, we also feel that it is important to acknowledge Wanda's intense trauma. By this point in the timeline she's getting better, but this is written assuming, logically, that she has had more than a couple of nonverbal and/or extremely withdrawn periods and anxiety attacks (and other shorter moments of the above) since everything that happened, particularly on the Raft. Through this lens (and our lens, being honest) her eventual discussion of Vision is not positive. If that's a dealbreaker, just backbutton now.
> 
> Third: this is a pretty slow burn, but the rating will be going up in the next chapter.

_Banished._

She’s wandered the Nine Realms for countless days since Odin’s decree that she was to be banished for disloyalty. She scarcely had time to collect a few of her belongings (including her sword and shield) before being escorted from Asgard. Odin refused to grant her a hearing or allow her to defend or explain herself. Indeed, she hadn’t even been able to speak with him after the guard delivered the news. “The Allfather said only that you had broken your oath to protect the realm and should be subsequently banished,” says the guard.

So she’d been unceremoniously cast out, and made her way about aimlessly in a haze of confusion and despair. Odin has been acting strangely of late - giving odd orders to his guard (including Sif), commissioning the Asgardian scribes to pen him a saga about his youngest son, Loki, and how he saved the realm, and sitting alone for many hours in his chambers. Some of this, she supposed, could be attributed to the recent loss of his queen, who had ruled at his side for millenia. Still, she is beginning to have her suspicions that all is not what it seems with the Allfather.

She doesn’t dare ask Heimdall to help her return to Asgard. Even if he could hear her, she’s not sure if he would have that power. There had been rumors circulating that Odin would ask Heimdall to step down from his duties and appoint a new Gatekeeper. Sif’s brother is clever, but she’s fairly sure even he couldn’t regain control of the Bifrost if it were to be taken away from him.

Finally, she resolves to stop sulking like a child and return to Midgard. Perhaps some of Thor’s friends would be able to assist her, or at least offer her a place to stay. She tries to find the Son of Coul and his team, because surely she thinks they will be willing to help her. But the SHIELD base that she knew seems to have been destroyed, either purposefully or through malicious means, and there are no signs that anyone has been there for months. She sighs, unsure of where to go next.

Then she remembers Thor mentioning a Steve Rogers, who had nearly been able to lift Mjolnir. Surely he, of all people, would help her.

But when she arrives on Midgard and begins to ask about the star-spangled man, the Midgardians act strangely. Some of them won’t talk to her at all, waving her off and hurrying away as if Sif is merely a fly buzzing around them. Some look nervous and don’t say anything. A few scoff and say something like, “Damn traitor, who cares where he is.”

Finally, a woman with kind eyes says, “Oh, honey, haven’t you heard? Captain America’s gone into hiding. He and Iron Man got into some kind of fight and then Stark declared him a war criminal.”

Sif raises an eyebrow. “I had not heard this news. If the Captain is truly in hiding, things must be dire indeed.”

“You’re telling me.” The woman sighs. “There are rumors about where he went. Some say upstate New York, some say Jersey, some say they went to that country in Africa that just came out of hiding. Wakanda? Something like that.”

“It will do,” says Sif, nodding. “That is more helpful than anyone else has been so far. Thank you.”

“Sure,” says the woman. “Good luck, okay? And if you see Thor, tell him to keep up the good work.” The woman winks at Sif exaggeratedly.

That makes Sif laugh. It seems, especially on Midgard, no one is immune to Thor’s charms. “I will,” she promises.

She makes her way to a subway station, which proves to be infinitely confusing, and finally she sits down on a bench. “Brother,” she murmurs, “if you can hear me, I need your help.”

There’s nothing for a very long moment, and then she feels him slip into her consciousness in the strange way he has. “Sif,” he says warmly. “I am glad you are well.”

She blinks, glancing around. He seems to be inside some sort of ship, surrounded by dozens of Asgardians and...is that a pile of rocks? “Where are you?” she asks. “I’ve found my way to Midgard.”

“We are...traveling,” says Heimdall finally. “I’m afraid I have ill news, sister. Asgard is destroyed.”

“ _What?_ ”

“It is a tale too long to tell now. But our people are safe, and we are in search of a new home. Thor is here, and Loki, and Bruce Banner. There were many losses, but we are fortunate to have saved those we could.”

Sif is too astonished to say anything for a while. Then, finally, she swallows and asks, “Are you able to see the realms, still?” There will be time to mourn Asgard later. For now, she must concentrate on getting to safety.

“My vision of them is more faded than it was, but I can see some things. I can see you.” She hears the smile in his voice. “Why do you ask?”

“Could you find someone for me? Thor’s friend, Captain America.”

“I will try.” He’s quiet for a moment, and while he is Sif inspects the people she can see through his eyes. One woman catches her eye, with brown skin and a familiar-looking tattoo on her arm. Before she can ask Heimdall about it, he says, “I have found him. He is living in Flemington, New Jersey, on the edge of the town. It seems he has other companions with him, but I am having trouble making some of them out.”

“Excellent.” Despite herself, Sif smiles for the first time in weeks. “Thank you, Heimdall.”

“Of course, sister. Take care.”

“You as well,” she says, as her vision fades back into the subway. There are a few people staring at her curiously, but she ignores them and goes to look at the subway schedule again. Flemington, New Jersey should be easy enough to find.

As it turns out, it’s more complicated than she anticipated, but eventually she manages to work out a reasonable route. More of it involves walking than she’d like, but she has had much harder journeys in her lifetime, so she resigns herself to it.

Three and a half days later, she stumbles into Flemington. She walks into the first convenience store she sees and asks the man behind the counter, “Which way is the edge of town? I am looking for a friend.”

The man looks startled. “Um,” he says, pointing down the road. “Follow that road, I guess. There’s farms and stuff out there.”

“Thank you,” she says, and keeps walking.

The sun is just starting to set when she begins to walk past farmhouses. She’s about to go knock on the first house’s door and ask for Steve when she spots someone chopping wood. “Hello?” she calls. “I am looking for Steve Rogers.”

“What the hell,” the man in question mutters once he’s turne to get a good look at the person speaking. She sure doesn’t sound like a Flemington native, but considering they’re trying to stay off the radar of Flemington natives that might be alright. She _looks_ like… well. “Are you… from Asgard?” he asks warily.

“I am,” she says, stepping closer. “And you, are you Steve Rogers? I am a friend of Thor Odinson, prince of Asgard.”

Steve leans on his axe, affecting a casual pose. A friend of Thor’s probably isn’t someone he needs to be wary of, but he’s especially careful these days. “I’m Steve Rogers,” he agrees. “And your name…?” He’s this close to calling her “Miss,” but he’s not sure what Asgardians consider appropriate address.

“I am Lady Sif,” she says, nodding a greeting. “I… find myself without a place to stay for the time being, and hoped that if I could find friends of Thor, that they would be willing to assist me.”

Steve sighs. Not so long ago, he would have opened his home to one of his allies’ allies without a thought, but that was before some of his allies turned into his serious enemies, and what’s more that’s far more complicated of a story than he feels comfortable explaining to a stranger. Finally he says, “I’ll need to talk to the others. We’re - well, we fell on some hard times.” He shakes his head - he knows that’s an understatement and an almost foolish one, but it’s about as much as he feels like discussing just yet.

Sif nods. “That is understandable. Would you prefer I wait outside while you talk to your friends?”

“I wouldn’t ask that of you,” he replies, and a hint of his old wholesome “aw shucks” self peeks through. “Come in. We’ll make coffee, you must be…” Tired, he’s about to say, or cold, but he’s not sure if that would entirely apply to an Asgardian and he doesn’t want to presume. “I’m sure we can at least put you up for the night. It would be cruel to turn you away now.”

“Thank you,” she says, smiling. “I have been traveling for so long that I lost count of the days.”

This makes him frown, even more deeply than he already had been. “Come in,” he repeats. “This place isn’t much, but it’s quiet and so far it’s been safe.” That’s worth a lot nowadays, his tone implies. After a moment he starts toward the front door, waving her along.

She follows him inside and sits down at the kitchen table he gestures toward. “I don’t suppose you could spare food, as well? I haven’t had much to eat since I was...since I left Asgard.”

Another man appears, apparently out of nowhere, and says, “Did someone say they need food? Steve, who’d you let in without feeding her?”

“This is Lady Sif,” Steve says, trying for a smile. “She just came in, I just got her a seat. Food was next on the list.”

“Nice to meet you, Lady Sif. I’m Sam.” The man - Sam - offers his hand. “What do you want to eat? I’m used to cooking for an army, or at least, an army in one guy’s body.” He nudges Steve affectionately.

That makes Sif smile as she shakes his hand. “Something with meat, if you could, Sam. As I was telling Rogers, I haven’t been able to eat much in quite some time, and I will need to eat heartily to replenish my strength.”

“I’ve got a steak with your name on it,” says Sam cheerfully. “Coming right up!”

“What’s going on?” asks another man, wandering into the kitchen. “Hey, you look familiar,” he says, squinting at her. “Do I know you from somewhere?”

“Clint, this is Lady Sif,” Steve says, nodding between the two of them. “She’s one of Thor’s people. She, ah, came looking for shelter.” That sounds overly formal, but he can get away with that.

“Oh.” Clint perks up. “Yeah, I think I remember you from New Mexico. It was like, six years ago.” He ambles over and offers his hand.

“You may call me Sif, if you prefer,” Sif says, shaking his hand.

“Cool.” Clint nods acknowledgement and then sits down at another chair at the table. “Is that steak I smell?”

“Not for you,” scolds Sam from the kitchen. “For our guest. She’s had a long journey without any good food.” Clint blows him a raspberry.

“Wow!” says someone else from another part of the room. “You look like Xena. You’re not Xena, are you?” Yet another man comes in, beaming at Sif. “Wait. Wait, I know this one. You’ve gotta be friends with Thor, right? Your whole deal looks a lot like his, with the armor and stuff.”

Sif blinks at him. “Yes, I am a friend of Thor. My name is Sif. And you are?” Thor hadn’t mentioned anyone like this. The man is reasonably tall and wiry and seems he nervous, but harmless.

“Oh. I’m Scang Lott, I mean, Lots Kang, I mean, Man Ant! Ah, geez.” He runs his hand through his hair. “Scott Lang, Ant-Man. That’s my name.”

“Very nice to meet you, Scott Lang.” She looks him up and down. “Do you turn into an ant?”

“No, no, I just get small like one. And also big. I just figured out how to do that, it’s kind of complicated. Pretty awesome though, I gotta say! Dunno if you’ve ever been ten feet tall but it is pretty damn cool.”

Sometime during this mess of a conversation, a young woman has slipped into the kitchen, barefoot and wrapped in a shawl. She doesn’t say anything at first, just idles in the doorway that leads to the staircase staring at everyone, and it has to be Steve’s to invite her into the room with a wave and a smile that seems just a little too gentle.

“Sorry about the noise,” Steve murmurs to her, and she shrugs, shaking her head, which he takes as a cue to continue on. “It’s good you came down, though. This is Lady Sif, she’s friends with Thor, and she needs a place to stay. I was going to get everyone’s thoughts on letting her hole up with us for a while…”

Sif glances over at the young woman, offering her a smile. “Hello,” she says. The woman looks a little uncertain, like she’s intimidated by Sif, but if she’s friends with Rogers, she must be a decent person.

“Sif, this is Wanda,” Steve says. “I don’t know what Thor has told you about us, but she’s…” He trails off. This is another strange subject: he wants to say kind things about Wanda, but he doesn’t want to say anything that will make Wanda think about the unkind things that have happened to her. Finally he settles on, “She’s one of us, too.”

Wanda fixes her gaze on Sif, and it seems like maybe it’s the most intently she’s focused on anything in awhile. Finally she manages a timid half-smile and a practically whispered “Hello.”

“Hello, Wanda,” Sif says, smiling back at her.

Scott and Clint cheerfully pester her with questions about Asgard until Sam brings her steak over on a plate, along with some sauteed mushrooms. “This probably isn’t quite the same as wild boar or whatever you’re used to,” he says, almost apologetically, “but it’s pretty damn good steak.”

“I’m sure it’s delicious,” says Sif, digging in eagerly. “Thank you.”

Throughout this, Steve has been brewing a pot of coffee - nothing fancy, but his standards are pretty low (1940s army-issue coffee wasn’t something you drank for the taste). Without saying anything or being asked, Wanda goes to one of the cupboards and starts pulling down mugs, one for everyone just in case, and once they’re lined up on the counter she settles in at the end of the table, in the chair farthest from everyone else’s. She sits with her knees pulled into her chest, held there by one loosely-wrapped arm, like she’s afraid of taking up too much space.

“So,” Steve says once everyone has their coffee and he’s set sugar and milk out (Scott in particular doctors his coffee to the point that it’s barely recognizable), “we’ve all heard a little about Sif’s situation. Is there anything else we should know?” he asks her.

“I should inform you that the Allfather has banished me,” Sif says, somewhat reluctantly. She assumes these Midgardians will not fully grasp the shame of being banished from her home world, but it seems wrong to keep the truth from them. “I was charged with failure to protect him and the realm. I am unsure on what grounds these charges were brought against me, but I was unable to defend myself.”

Luckily - or perhaps not luckily at all - banishment and displacement are things this group understand all too well. Steve studies the expressions of all of his friends with worry before asking, “Would it be reasonable to guess that this was probably an unfair sentence?” He’s pretty sure he knows the answer - it’s not an unfamiliar sort of story - but he has to be careful.

“I have never gone against the will of my king, or the benefit of Asgard,” says Sif, eyes flashing with anger. “The Allfather has been acting strangely lately, but I do not know why he would bring such charges against me.”

“I believe you,” Steve rushes to say. “I didn’t mean to suggest I didn’t. I’m just trying to get the full picture.” Trying to figure out if her situation is likely to bring hell on the rest of them, but that seems too mean to say outright.

Sif nods, calming. “I understand your intentions. I do not believe my presence will bring any harm to you or your friends, Rogers. You see, I received word from my brother Heimdall that Asgard has been...destroyed.” She swallows before continuing, “It seems my people, including Thor, have gone in search of a new home. And now I am unsure where I shall go.”

“Jesus,” says Clint with a low whistle. “So you’ve had a really shitty week, or whatever.”

“That is something of an understatement,” says Sif dryly. “So I’ve come to ask for shelter, at least until I decide what to do, or receive word from Heimdall. I hoped Thor’s friends would be willing to help.”

Steve nods carefully. “Well, I know what I’m thinking, but what about the rest of you?” he asks, trying to get a read of everyone else. His gaze lingers on Wanda - she’s clearly the wild card.

“I’m okay with it,” Sam pipes up. “Although if she’s gonna eat like that every night, I might make her go out and hunt for us.” He grins and winks at Sif.

“We’ve got that extra room,” Scott adds. “I could go wash some sheets for it now, no problem.”

“Okay,” Steve says slowly. “Clint? Ah… Wanda?” He seems to hesitate with her, not wanting to push.

Clint shrugs. “Any friend of Thor’s is a friend of mine.”

“Yes,” Wanda says, resting her chin on her knees and staring, no qualms or shyness, right at Sif. It’s the kind of look that’s intense enough to make some people uncomfortable, but she either doesn’t notice or doesn’t care. “She’s good.”

Sif returns her stare for a second, unsure of how to respond. Wanda’s eyes are green, and there’s a sadness to them that makes Sif idly wonder what has happened to this girl. “I’m glad you think so,” she says, smirking slightly.

Wanda just nods, in a way that’s probably affirmation and understanding. “Make her welcome,” she says to Steve, insistent.

“That settles that, then,” Steve says. He’s clearly a little surprised by Wanda’s response, how quickly it came and how vehement it was, but he’s glad. To Sif he declares, “Our home is yours, for as long as you need.” The word “home” comes out sad, he can’t help it, but he tries to sound positive overall.

“It is appreciated,” Sif says, polishing off the last of the mushrooms. “In return, I offer you my protection and help, should you need it.”

“I’ll go wash those sheets now!” says Scott, jumping up from the table and dashing off.

“While he’s doing that,” Clint says, “I feel like you have some fun stories about Thor. Don’t suppose you’d consider sharing some?”

Sif nods, grinning. “It would be my pleasure.”

 

* * *

 

Later in the evening, the others drift off to bed one by one, until only Steve and Sif are left. Sif is strangely awake, despite being able to feel the weariness from her many days of traveling deep in her bones. Still, she asks, “Can you tell me what has happened, that you all must hide here? Where are Stark and Romanov?”

Steve lets out a sigh. He knew this was coming, but it’s not a story he enjoys telling, for a slew of reasons. “Did you hear about the Sokovia Accords at all?” he asks.

“The what?” Sif tilts her head. “I have never heard of such a thing.”

He glances at the wall for a moment, collecting his thoughts. “Our work isn’t bloodless,” he begins. “As a warrior, I’m sure you understand that even when you manage to save people, you can’t always save everyone. After some missions that didn’t… we couldn’t save everyone.” He pauses, clearly regretful. “But we saved a hell of a lot of people, and we did what we could. Some of the people in the government decided that just what we could wasn’t good enough, that it would be better if heroes were monitored, sent out when an official panel said so. Stark agreed, and some of the others did too. We didn’t.”

Sif tilts her head. “In a way, it sounds not unlike the way the Allfather used his army. However, he often fought _with_ them, at least in the olden days. I assume this is not what your government was envisioning.”

“They were thinking about using us like guard dogs,” Steve says bitterly. “Only letting us off the leash when they deemed it was appropriate. Sending us where we didn’t think it was right to go, not letting us go where we did.”

Sif grimaces. “Even if they thought what they were doing was right, it sounds as if their power would be easily abused. I understand why you refused to agree to this.”

“We used to work with SHIELD, before it fell apart,” Steve continues, frowning. “I trusted some of the agents, I really did. It had been Peggy’s project, after… But the whole reason it fell was that Hydra was working inside its ranks. If that could happen, that parts of an entire agency could be corrupted like that, a small council could be turned, or even evil from the start, just like _that_.”

“I do not believe that all of SHIELD was evil,” Sif replies. “I have worked with them in the past, and I found the agents I worked with to be honorable.” She doesn’t mention that Coulson was one of the agents in question. Even if she hadn’t promised to keep his secret, it hardly seems the time to share such news.

“Oh, I’m sure they weren’t,” he says, chuckling mirthlessly. “There were plenty of us who stood for what was right in the end, or long before it. But it was a sobering realization, that some of the people we’d been listening to or working with were…” He shakes his head. “I trust my team. I trust their judgment. I don’t trust some faceless cluster of bureaucrats who put, or might well put, their own priorities and agendas above doing what’s right. That’s not how you win this fight.”

Nodding, Sif replies, “I can see why you and Thor got along, Rogers. You are a noble man of great character.”

“Thank you,” Steve says. He doesn’t usually handle compliments like that very well, not knowing what’s behind them, but Sif is straightforward in a way that might just be an Asgardian trait. It’s reassuring. “But all of that doesn’t explain what brought us here. Stark had a group on his side about the Accords, in favor of signing for whatever reason, and I had a group on mine. Natasha - Romanov - she was on Stark’s side, but barely. My group was, well, everyone here, plus Bucky - who’d been the Winter Soldier. I’m not sure if Thor ever mentioned… he was my best friend growing up, and I thought he’d been killed in the war, but Hydra had captured him and brainwashed him. He had been trying to get away from that life, though.” Here his voice breaks, and it’s clear there’s a lot he isn’t saying. “He wasn’t Hydra’s man anymore, but not everyone believed that.”

“I’m sorry,” Sif says, offering him a sympathetic smile. “That sounds very painful.”

He tries to return the smile, at least enough to seem grateful. “A lot of things happened in the few days after the Accords got brought up. What it comes down to is that we had a fight. Going after our friends, our former friends… Bucky had intel about other people who’d been manipulated by Hydra, who could be used as weapons just like him, so we were going to find them before someone worse could. The others had to hold Stark and his off so he and I could get away. Natasha helped us, though, she understood.” He frowns. He hasn’t heard from her in awhile, and it’s clear he’s worried about her after this, but he doesn’t want to bother Sif with this too much. “Stark’s best friend, Rhodey - War Machine - he got hurt, nearly killed in the fight. By the time it was all over, they had people coming for my team.” His entire expression goes dark as he mentions this.

“I suppose that didn’t end well?”

“They were in prison,” Steve says, one of his hands clenching into a fist. “Worse than prison. It was a facility on a ship in the middle of the ocean, isolated from everything. They were being treated like criminals, like the kind of monsters we go up against, not like heroes who’d just had a difference of opinion. It was - when I showed up to break them out, I could hardly believe…”

Sif shakes her head. “I won’t pretend that Odin’s methods of dealing with prisoners were free of cruelty,” she says. “But this sounds inhumane.”

“It was worse than inhumane,” he says vehemently. “It was obvious that Sam and the other guys had been beaten, probably more than once. And Wanda, they’d -” He cuts himself off for a moment, apparently needing more coffee to fortify himself for this part of the story (or possibly just wanting to pause before getting into that).

“I had noticed she seemed withdrawn,” Sif says, voice gentle. “What happened to her?”

“I’m, we’re, still not sure about all of it,” Steve says carefully. “She’s got abilities. Stronger than anyone I’ve ever seen before, I don’t even know how to explain them without sounding… she can move things with her mind. She can get into other people’s minds. She can alter reality. She was experimented on by Hydra, too, she and her twin brother - he died saving Clint’s life in Sokovia, where they both grew up. She’s been with us since then, and she’s tried _so_ hard to do the right thing. She wants to do the right thing. But there have been casualties, ones that people, other people, have wanted to dwell on. The kind of things that prompted the Accords.” He grits his teeth, sighs. “She was being kept isolated from the others, locked up. Straitjacketed, fitted with what was practically a shock collar to dampen her powers. She was practically catatonic when I found her.”

Sif’s eyes widen and she unconsciously clenches one of her fists. “I hope you made them sorry,” she says in a low tone.

“I might’ve seriously hurt a few more of the guards than necessary on the way out,” he admits. “We’ve all had a hard time getting back to normal, or whatever normal we can manage while we’re on the run. Clint and Scott both have kids, for God’s sake, and it’s been how long since they’ve been able to see them? Bucky’s in cryostasis in Wakanda until someone figures out a way to get his Hydra programming out of his head once and for all, I lost him just as soon as I got him back. But Wanda’s… she’s hurting in a way that I’m not sure any of us can really help.”

“That’s terrible.” Sif shakes her head again. “I will do what I can for her while I’m here. At the very least, I can offer her and the rest of you my protection.”

“We appreciate it,” Steve says. “And I’m sorry to hear what you’ve been through, too.” There are more than a few similarities between their misfortunes, which he doesn’t feel like he has to say.

 

* * *

 

Sif is sleeping soundly when she’s awoken by the sound of the wall next to her bed shaking. She sits up in bed, reaching for the sword she has within reach. Her eyes dart around the room, assessing, and once she determines the threat is not in her room she leaps out of bed and opens her door.

Wanda’s in the room next to hers, so she runs over to her door and knocks, calling loud enough to be heard over the shaking, “Wanda? Are you alright?”

There’s no answer, but she can just make out a whimpering noise coming from inside if she listens closely. She opens the door, sword drawn, to see…

...Wanda, thrashing around in her sleep and crying, surrounded by a reddish aura. Whatever’s happening to her is causing the wall to shake.

Sif drops her sword and goes over to the girl. “Wanda,” she says urgently. “Wake up. Wanda!”

It takes a moment for Sif’s voice to really reach Wanda, but once it does she startles awake, exhaling in a way that sounds more like a gasp. Her eyes are wild, pinpricks of red glinting in her pupils, and when she sits up and the covers (such as they are) fall away, similar red light tangles around her hands.

Only belatedly does she think to say, “Oh. Sif, I…” There’s no clear end to the sentence.

“What happened?” Sif asks. “The wall was shaking. I wanted to ensure you weren’t being harmed.”

Wanda bites her lip. She knows, by now, that Sif knows at least the bare outlines of her story, why she’s not right, but she’s embarrassed by this obvious evidence. “I was dreaming,” she says, clearly having to put effort into forcing out the words. “I must have been afraid.” She doesn’t know why she says it like that - she knows the answer, knows she was afraid - but it seems more careful somehow.

“I’m sorry,” Sif says. “Do you wish to talk about it?” She’s not really one for sharing emotions, but she knows that that helps some people.

“I don’t know,” Wanda murmurs, frowning. These days it feels like no matter what, her thoughts are going too fast for her tongue to keep up, and after she’s been dreaming and she’s trying to process so many different images and feelings at once it’s especially difficult. But she can’t let it just hang, can’t let Sif think she doesn’t appreciate that offer, so she adds, “I don’t know if I have the words.”

Sif nods. “That I understand. Can I do anything for you? Would you like me to sit with you for awhile, perhaps?”

“Yes,” Wanda says, so quickly she surprises herself. “I like listening to someone else breathe.”

Sif chuckles. “I can certainly do that for you.” She hesitates, then asks, “Where would you like me to be? I don’t wish to make you uncomfortable.” She’s wearing only undergarments and an oversized T-shirt of Steve’s, which he insisted she borrow when she mentioned casually that she was used to sleeping in the nude. She has no issue being near- or completely nude in front of someone else, but she knows that not everyone is so cavalier about it.

Wanda thinks for a moment, then nods to the foot of her bed. It’s a smaller bed than she had at the Avengers complex, what Sam called “dorm-size,” but that still means it’s larger than most beds she’s slept in in her life, and it’s more comfortable than those, too. “Thank you,” she says softly. “I’m sorry I woke you.”

Sif settles in at the foot of Wanda’s bed and then shrugs. “It’s alright. I require less sleep than Midgardians. And I wanted to make sure you were alright.”

Wanda shrugs too. She’s as alright as she ever is, she wants to say, but that seems somehow too flippant, too disrespectful, and clarifying that would take too much effort. Instead, she says, “I’ve shaken the entire house before.” This, she means, was really nothing.

“Still.” Sif reaches for her, then thinks better of it. “I do not like seeing you in distress.”

“Thank you,” Wanda says, though the declaration makes her feel shy. Shy is normal these days, but not this sort of shy.

Sif’s quiet for a moment, not sure what to say, and then says, “I’m afraid I’ve never been very good at comfort. Frigga always said I was the sort to chase away the monster rather than embrace those it put in danger.”

“Frigga was Thor’s mother,” Wanda not-actually-asks.

“Yes,” nods Sif. “And mine, in a way. My own mother was a very skilled healer and spent much of her time training apprentices and tending to her patients. Since I spent much of my youth in the palace with Thor and Loki, Frigga looked after me as if I was her own.”

Wanda hums in understanding. “That’s lucky,” she says, trusting that Sif will know she means (regarding Frigga, not her birth mother). Then, because she can’t help but know to say it, she adds, “I’m sorry she’s gone.”

“As am I,” Sif sighs. “She was truly everything we could have wanted in a queen: courageous, intelligent, kind, and she loved the people of Asgard as her family.” Then she chuckles and shakes her head. “I don’t mean to speak of sadness. I’m meant to be helping you.”

“Don’t mind,” Wanda says, meaning that she doesn’t mind. She twists her hands for a moment as she tries to sort out how to explain what she’s thinking, feeling (not for the first time) small. “Other people’s stories do help,” she finally settles on. There’s something comforting about being outside of her own mind, but with permission.

Sif nods. “Would you like me to tell you more? I don’t know if you ever knew Thor, but I have many stories from when we ran about causing all kinds of havoc on Asgard.” She grins mischievously. “Somehow, the princes always got into more trouble than me.”

“I only saw a part of him,” Wanda murmurs. “Your part sounds better.” More pleasant, more diverting, more all sorts of things.

So Sif launches into a story about the time Loki cast illusions to make the guards think the palace was filled with spiders, so that she and Thor could sneak into Odin’s treasure room. She keeps telling stories until Wanda’s eyes start to droop and she lies down, pulling the covers over her again. Not until she hears Wanda’s breathing go even and steady does she stop talking, and even then she sits with her awhile, as if her presence will keep Wanda’s nightmares away for a little longer.

 

* * *

 

Sif takes advantage of the land behind the house to practice with her sword. It’s not as satisfying as sparring with a partner, but she knows some exercises to do on her own that will suffice. (She did invite her hosts to join her, but all of them declined. Apparently few Midgardians are trained in the art of swordsmanship.)

She doesn’t keep track of how long she’s been outside, but at some point she spots movement out of the corner of her eye and pauses. Wanda is sitting cross-legged on a tree stump, watching Sif intently. In her short time with the Avengers, she figured out that heroes do a lot of practicing, and she also figured out that she enjoyed watching that practice, especially when it was in a different discipline than she had experience with.

Swordplay is _very_ different, she’s now discovering. And Sif practicing swordplay is something else altogether. She’s not sure what, but she has an idea.

Sif pauses and grins over at her. “Enjoying the show?” she teases. “You should see me with a decent opponent.”

Wanda’s eyes go wide. Another thing she learned, back before, was that most of her teammates and former teammates didn’t feel compelled to engage her in the middle of practice. They all just started to take it for granted that there would be their strange shadow of a surrogate sister-or-daughter on the sidelines sometimes. For a second she just stares, trying to regain her composure enough to speak, and then all she manages is, “I’ve never seen swords up close.” Seen them in use, she means, though she’s not exactly used to them in any context.

“Mine is special,” Sif says, demonstrating how it can expand to be a two-sided blade, then retract to be a simpler, more traditional sword. “Not everyone can use this type of sword well, but I am one of the best in all of Asgard.”

“Oh,” Wanda murmurs, beginning to reach a hand out to touch the weapon and then drawing back anxiously, like she suspects she’s being too forward. “It’s amazing. You’re…” She shakes her head. That would _certainly_ be too forward.

But Sif just laughs warmly. “You can touch it if you like. Just be careful.”

So very gently, Wanda reaches out again. She just barely skims her fingers along the blade, but it’s more than enough to get a sense for it, for Sif and her history and her abilities, and she murmurs, “You have great power.”

“Thank you. I have been training since I was very young.” Sif looks Wanda over and then says, “If you don’t object to my asking, what sort of abilities do you have?”

Wanda bites her lip. She _could_ just demonstrate, but she’s wary. Instead she lifts a hand, twists her wrist, watches her red light start up. “I can control things with my mind,” she says. This is the easier explanation, the one without discussions of chaos and probability and other intangible things like that. “Objects, mostly.” After a second she makes some leaves lift and spiral. “People, in a way. Not compulsion, exactly. Mental images, perception, memory. And I can see into other minds without altering them, as well.” The words come slowly, with some effort. This is a hard thing for her to discuss, given how it’s been the cause of so much of her hurt, and she doesn’t want to say the wrong thing and frighten Sif away.

Sif can see that it’s difficult for Wanda to talk about, and she nods sympathetically. “You needn’t say more if you don’t wish to,” she says. “But it sounds as if you are quite powerful yourself, Wanda.”

Here Wanda shrugs. “It’s better you know,” she says, though a bit regretfully. “The others all know. I… I will not do those things to you, Sif. Not without permission.” The occasional stray thought or feeling slips through unbidden sometimes, but mostly Wanda has learned how to ignore those, or at least not act on them, so it’s different, she figures.

“Truthfully, it had not occurred to me to worry you would,” says Sif. “But I appreciate your promise. I’m unsure how interesting my mind would be, also,” she adds with a smile.

“Most do worry, so I am used to explaining in advance,” Wanda says wryly, but underneath that is the fact that she especially wants Sif to understand her good intentions. “I admit I’ve given them cause to wonder, but that was before, when I…” She falters, suddenly, swallowing hard and letting the dancing leaves fall abruptly.

“We needn’t talk more about this if you don’t want to,” Sif replies. “I can continue training if you’d like to watch more.” She winks.

Of course, Wanda is sure that wink is meant to be reassuring but it mostly startles her. She’s not used to receiving that kind of attention, even just in play. So of course she stammers when she says, “I would like that.”

“Alright.” Sif retracts one side of her sword so that it has only one blade again and starts to run another drill that she remembers.

And for a while, Wanda does just watch, worrying her bottom lip, unconsciously working red light through her fingers. There’s a poetry to Sif’s movements, she thinks, a certain grace; describing it as a dance is likely a cliche, so she doesn’t do that out loud, but it’s true.

She doesn’t even fully realize it when she says, “Teach me something.”

Sif finishes the drill and then says, “Alright. What experience do you have with weapons?”

“Mostly just deflecting them,” Wanda admits. “I _am_ the weapon, more than not.”

Sif pauses, thinking. “Alright. We should work on your stance first. Do I have permission to touch you?”

Wanda can’t help it, the thought makes her twitch just slightly, but she can tell it’s not a bad kind of twitch. She doesn’t really do a lot of touching anymore unless it’s in combat (strange enough, considering how tactile she and Pietro were) but she wants it now. “Yes,” she says decisively.

“Plant your feet firmly on the ground and balance your weight. You want to be sure the sword will not knock you over when you swing it.” Sif goes to stand behind Wanda, to help her arrange herself.

Wanda nods, doing just that. Stance is something she’s worked on a bit, figuring out the best ways to stand in order to give the most grounded attacks possible. “Does it matter where my feet point?” she asks, because she knows she has a tendency to stand oddly.

“Forward, if possible,” says Sif. “That way you’re more likely to keep your balance.” She steps closer and gently grabs onto Wanda’s waist to rotate her body slightly. “Like this.”

“Alright,” Wanda says, making an effort to assume the proper position. “How long have you been fighting?”

That makes Sif grin. “As long as I can remember. When I was very small, I had a wooden sword that I used to run about with, challenging the palace guards to duels. Thor and I were terrors to them, but to their credit they were generally kind and patient with us. But I cannot think of a time when I did not feel called to be a warrior. It is simply a part of me.”

“It must be nice to have that sort of purpose,” Wanda murmurs.

Sif frowns. “I didn’t mean to make you feel inadequate,” she says quickly. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s not like that,” Wanda says, and it’s not, it’s altogether more complicated than that. “It just sounds different than what I’ve known. Better.”

“Ah. I understand.” Sif coughs and then says, “So, when you hold a sword you often want to bend your knees slightly, as this will strengthen your stance and make it harder to knock you down.”

“Yes, that makes sense,” Wanda agrees. That’s fairly standard, for fighting. “How far apart should my legs be?” The question makes her blush to ask, though it’s practical.

“A bit more than they are now.” Sif glances down until Wanda’s adjusted properly, then says, “Yes, about there. Your arms should be in front of you, elbows bent. It’ll seem ridiculous, but just try it out for now before we try it with the actual sword.”

The arms are easier for Wanda, and she tries to lighten the mood a bit by saying so. “I’m used to my arms in odd positions,” she remarks with a hint of a smile.

It works, and Sif laughs. “Well, then you’ll be fine,” she teases. “Good. Here, if you want to learn some basic attacks with the sword, let’s try…” She glances around, then spots a branch nearby. She retrieves it and then offers it to Wanda. “This isn’t as heavy, so you can get used to the movements with it.”

“Alright,” Wanda says. “It feels like playing at fighting, like a child.”

“Childish or not, I’d prefer you not lop off one of your arms, or one of mine, inadvertently,” says Sif with a smirk. “As I said, I too started with a wooden sword.”

“I understand,” Wanda says. “It’s just a strange feeling, is all.”

“You’ll grow used to it the more you practice.” Sif reaches for her hands to position them in vaguely the right place on the branch. “Like this. You want a firm grip on it, but not so tightly that you’ll harm your wrist or hand when it makes contact.”

“Is that likely to happen?” Wanda asks. “I’ve hurt my wrists before.”

“Not if you keep yourself loose enough to absorb any shock. Here, let me show you.” Sif steps away and grabs another stick, then, after holding it like a sword, darts forward and smacks her stick against Wanda’s. “Do you feel that, how it jumps? It will be much stronger with metal on metal, which is why it’s important to get your grip right.”

“I see,” Wanda says, nodding. That’s not entirely a strong suit of hers, keeping loose, but she’ll try. She wants to succeed at this. She wants to impress Sif. That motivation is becoming clearer and clearer to the point where she’s honestly surprised it hasn’t manifested outside of herself.

They train for a little while longer until Clint comes out to call them to dinner. “Oh, what’re you guys doing?” he asks, grinning. “Training?”

Sif nods. “Wanda wanted to learn, so I was teaching her some swordplay basics.”

“Yes,” Wanda agrees, returning the smile. She knows Clint feels responsible for her, quasi-paternally, and she knows it makes him feel better when she’s actually in a good mood. “It’s very interesting.”

“Cool. How’s she doing?” Clint winks at Sif. “She’s a clever girl, I’m sure she’s picking it up quick.”

“She is,” Sif agrees. “I haven’t trained anyone in a long time, but I’m happy to teach Wanda. You did very well today,” she adds, turning to Wanda. “I think, with time, you could become quite good. Perhaps not as good as myself,” she adds with a laugh, “but good all the same.”

“I don’t think many people are as good as you,” Wanda says solemnly. “I’m just happy to learn.”

“Good,” replies Sif. “That’s why you’re a good student.” She follows Clint inside without another word, but she does glance back and smile at Wanda again.

 

* * *

 

After dinner, the boys insist on a movie night. Steve sort of half-heartedly suggests _Bringing Up Baby,_ but is outvoted loudly when Clint finds out Wanda’s never seen _Titanic_. He and Scott both exclaim “ _What?_ ” at the same time.

“We have to fix this right now,” Clint says, making a beeline for the DVD shelf.

“I’ll make popcorn,” Sam says. “We need popcorn for a movie this bad.”

“Why?” Wanda asks. “I don’t know why I need to see this if it’s bad. I know what happens.”

“It’s an American experience!” Clint protests. “Like baseball games and apple pie!”

“I’m gonna have to disagree about that,” Steve says.

Sif tilts her head. “I have never heard of this film,” she says. “I have no idea what happens in it. Am I meant to?”

“No,” Clint says quickly. “No one spoil her. We’re doing this. Sam, grab me a beer while you’re in the kitchen.”

His enthusiasm wanes somewhere around the hour and a half mark. Or maybe it’s just that the two beers he’s had makes him pass out, snoring softly. Sam and Scott slink away too, with vague excuses about sleep, and Steve goes to take a shower with the excuse that nobody else is going to need hot water for a while. Wanda really does try to pay attention, though, because if it’s this important to them what does it hurt her to try?

That turns out to be a foolish (internal) question.

“I am still getting caught up on movies,” Wanda murmurs to Sif, who’s sitting beside her on the sofa, “but I don’t think this one is very good.”

Sif snickers. “I don’t think so either. I have only the live theater in Asgard to compare it to, but this is needlessly overdramatic. And I’m not sure I believe they are really in love.”

“I’ve found that’s a problem with many movies,” Wanda declares. “I’m not a very good judge of what makes a good romance, I don’t think, but I don’t like how forced the stories seem. Like just because there is a man and a woman they should have to…” She shrugs, suddenly shy.

“Yes, I see what you mean,” Sif says. “I’m not familiar with much Midgardian entertainment, but I know that that is sometimes assumed on Asgard as well. Not as frequently, because many Asgardians are attracted to multiple genders, but it has been an issue for me in the past.” She shrugs. “I’ve had male and female lovers, I don’t see the issue either way.”

Wanda’s eyes go wide and all of her composure abruptly disappears. “I… yes. There is no issue.”

“So what exactly _does_ happen at the end?” Sif asks. “Since you said you know, and no one is here to protest if you tell me.” She shifts a bit closer to Wanda, like she’s waiting to hear a secret.

“I know what happened to the Titanic in real life,” Wanda corrects, trying to smile. “I don’t know what happens to these characters. Shouldn’t we find out?”

“I suppose,” says Sif, pouting a bit playfully. “I was hoping for...what did Thor call it, spoilers?”

“I don’t have any,” Wanda assures. “Besides, we should sit through this in case the boys ask us silly questions.” It’s a bit odd, she knows, that she calls them “boys” since they’re all very decidedly, well, men who are older than her, but they all act like boys together. It’s meant fondly.

“A fair point,” agrees Sif, settling in. “It is quite dull though. At least the girl is lovely.”

“She is,” Wanda says, biting her lip. “I do not think she’s really seventeen, though.”

Snorting, Sif nods. “I haven’t met many who are seventeen Midgardian years, but I’d guess you’re right.” She pauses, then asks somewhat cautiously, “If it’s not too forward for me to ask, have you ever had any lovers? You seem a bit young, but I don’t want to assume.”

Wanda blushes, but it’s stranger in her opinion _not_ to reply. “You could say lovers, if you were being generous,” she remarks, aiming for dryness. “I, ah… slept with a few near-strangers, back in, back home. Though not really home.” She laughs nervously. “Once or twice I sneaked out of the lab, mostly to see if I could, and I had sex for the same reasons. It was an experiment, a better sort of one than those that were done to me.” She takes a breath, then rushes on, because if she doesn’t now she won’t but she feels it needs to be said. “I might have had another in time, a real lover, a relationship even, but he was… Vision chose Stark’s side over mine.”

“Ah.” Sif shoots her a sympathetic look. “I’m sorry to hear that. If it helps to comfort you, I don’t think he was deserving of you, if he could make such a choice.”

“I’m not sure anymore,” Wanda murmurs, frowning. “It’s so complicated, and not just like the cliche. The problem was that he was, had always been, Stark’s man, literally. He’s - I suppose android would be the closest term?” Wanda shrugs. This is the strange part and she wishes she didn’t have to say, but she does. “His body was created by, by Ultron, Stark’s renegade robot, and Dr. Cho, while his brain was derived from Stark’s computer. But I saw his soul, or I thought I did. What passed for his soul. He was good. He seemed to care, for me and the others. I think in his way he might still have, but in the end he thought that what Stark wanted for me was more important than what I wanted for myself. And he didn’t stop them from putting me, putting us…”

Sif shakes her head. “You didn’t deserve that.”

“I have wondered,” Wanda admits. “Steve and the others are quick to assure me that what happened there, what - those things that hurt me - that I didn’t…” She sighs and shakes her head. She can practically feel the words abandoning her, like they always do if she tries to discuss this. “But it, but he - I never trusted Stark, but I trusted Vision.”

“Yes. Betrayals are always wrenching, but especially from those we want to trust most.” Sif reaches over a bit awkwardly to rest her hand on Wanda’s shoulder. “If you’d like to talk about it more, I’d be happy to listen.”

“Maybe later,” Wanda says, surprised to realize she means it. It must be the effect of Sif’s hand on her shoulder. She pauses, desperately searching for some way to lighten the mood (she was the one to darken it, it seems only fair). “I am surprised you aren’t shocked that I was interested in… well,” she settles on, trying to smile. Goodness knows others of her teammates (Clint mostly, in the most fatherly way possible) had given her grief for being infatuated with a synthetic being who for all intents and purposes was a man but also… wasn’t. Isn’t.

Sif laughs, not unkindly. “I have lived far too many years and seen too many things to be surprised by something like that. As long as a being can consent, I see no harm in it.”

“He was thought of as a man but he wasn’t exactly,” Wanda says hurriedly, “and I think that was part of what interested me about him.” She can’t look at Sif when she says this, but she has to say it.

“Oh?” Sif asks, smiling. “You needn’t elaborate if you don’t want to.”

“I think that what I learned, from what I did when I was younger, was that I’m not often interested in the regular sort of man,” Wanda mumbles.

“The regular sort of man is overrated,” says Sif with a playful roll of her eyes. “I’ve been in love with a few good men, and fought alongside many too, but I’ve known many fools as well.”

“I - I care for Steve and Sam and Clint and Scott,” Wanda says, “but like family. They stepped in to be mine when I had none, my family, and that’s what they are. Nothing else.”

Nodding, Sif replies, “Good. I’m glad you have people who care for you. It’s been a long time since…” She pauses and shakes her head, like shaking off a memory, and then says, “Your pain is no less legitimate because the person you had feelings for is unconventional.”

It’s impossible not to notice at least the feeling behind Sif’s words, and Wanda finally chances to look up at her when she says, “There are few things more terrible than knowing that even if you wanted to go home, there would be no home to go to. I’m sorry for all you’ve lost.” It’s a distraction from her own sadness, but suddenly Sif’s seems pressing, like if she doesn’t offer sympathy soon it could physically cause her pain.

Smiling ruefully, Sif says, “Thank you.” Then she looks awkward, like she’s not sure what to say next. Luckily, something is happening onscreen that catches her eye. “Oh dear,” she says, “has an iceberg hit that boat?”

Wanda can sense why Sif mentions it, but she still can’t help but laugh. Her knowledge of proper history is… spotty, to say the least, considering most of her postadolescent education was the work of low-level Hydra lackeys who’d drawn the proverbial short straw, but disasters were one subject that was well-covered. “It has,” she says. “It’s not funny, that’s not why I’m laughing.” She shrugs, a bit embarrassed.

“I like your laugh,” says Sif. “But why are you laughing?”

“It’s something most people know happened,” Wanda explains. “The Titanic was a real ship, you see. I enjoyed your… genuine reaction of surprise, I suppose?” Then she seems to remember what the first thing Sif said was just then and adds, “My laugh?”

“It’s nice,” Sif says. “Your face becomes so different when you laugh.”

“Oh,” Wanda says, or more accurately squeaks. “Thank you, I think?”

“I meant it as a compliment,” teases Sif. “You’re welcome.”

“Then thank you, I mean for sure,” Wanda murmurs, biting her lip shyly.

As the movie keeps going, Wanda tries to stay awake, but it’s really getting _quite_ late, and eventually she tips over, fast asleep. She’s so tired she hadn’t even noticed that she’s ended up sprawled across Sif’s lap.

Sif, on the other hand, _definitely_ noticed, and she smiles fondly down at Wanda. After waiting a bit to ensure she won’t wake Wanda if she moves, she carefully edges out from beneath the girl, turns off the television, and picks Wanda up as easily as if she were a kitten. She carefully climbs the stairs with Wanda in her arms, depositing her in her bed and then turning to go to her own room.

“Wait,” Wanda murmurs, waking without moving. “Would you stay again? I… I liked that.”

Sif pauses in front of Wanda’s door. “Are you sure? I don’t wish to intrude.”

“You won’t be,” Wanda promises, a note of hope in her voice. “The bed is large enough. You could lie down.”

“Well, if you want,” Sif says, going back over and carefully climbing in next to Wanda. “I’m afraid I might take up more than my fair share.”

“You won’t,” Wanda repeats. “I feel calm with you nearby.”

Sif smiles, settling in. “I’m glad,” she says. “I’d like to help however I can.”


	2. take me back, you're almost blossoming

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sif and Wanda grow closer.

They’ve been quiet for a few minutes, just settling into the feel of being next to each other, but then something occurs to Wanda. “I think I’m wearing too many clothes,” she says, and before Sif can misconstrue she hurries to add, “For bed! Too many clothes for bed.”

Sif laughs. “That can be fixed,” she says. “I’ll leave while you change for bed.” She slides elegantly out from between Wanda’s sheets and stands up.

Wanda blushes a little, although she knows that’s foolish - it shouldn’t be embarrassing that Sif is respecting her privacy, after all, but she’s reminded that she has privacy to respect, and in this context, well. “Thank you,” she says, and she goes for her pajamas, such as they are.

It suddenly seems incredibly lucky that in her drawer of pajamas-and-underthings-and-socks she has a black nightgown, short and sleeveless and comfortable (cotton instead of silk, and she likes silk but not for sleeping in) and a bit feminine (lace-looking but thankfully not lace-feeling trim along the neckline) without being too overtly sexual. This was a present from Natasha on her last visit, based on the theory that Wanda would probably prefer to have at least one set of nightclothes that weren’t picked out and/or formerly owned by a bunch of boys. Now it seems, in a strange way, like it was also good planning for if Wanda wanted to look pretty for someone while in bed. (She doesn’t care what the boys think, and usually wears a bathrobe when she comes down to breakfast anyway.)

Sif has slipped out of the room, and only returns once she’s put on the giant T-shirt. “May I come back in, Wanda?” she calls softly through the door.

“Yes,” Wanda says. It’s foolish, but she’s brushed out and fluffed up her hair (as much as she ever does, anyway) and tried to arrange herself prettily on the bed, just sitting up but at a decent angle. She’s never actually tried to seduce anyone before (she’s pretty sure that’s what she’s doing), and she’s not sure if this is how it’s done.

Sif opens the door, and smiles when she sees how Wanda’s arranged herself. Not that she isn’t flattered by it, but she doesn’t want to move too fast or frighten Wanda. “That looks much more comfortable for bed,” she says, nodding at the nightgown.

“It is,” Wanda says quickly, as if that’s the only reason she changed. “I don’t like wearing too much when I sleep, I would rather just pile on blankets if I get cold.”

“I can understand that.” Sif makes her way over to the bed. “Would you still like me to stay with you?”

“Please?” Wanda asks, sounding smaller than she intends. “I meant it, I… I enjoy your company.” It sounds far too formal, but it will have to do.

“I enjoy yours as well,” Sif says, climbing in next to Wanda. “How’s that?”

“Yes,” Wanda agrees. “In honesty? I shared beds for so much of my life that it sometimes feels too strange to be alone in one.”

“That makes sense,” says Sif. “Your brother?” She hasn’t felt right bringing up Wanda’s brother before, but it seems like maybe Wanda wants to talk about it now.

“Mostly, yes,” Wanda says. It seems appropriate to open up about this, since Sif has spoken of her own losses. “We were so close that when the men who… when they wanted to punish us, all they would have to do was separate us.”

Sif reaches out to stroke Wanda’s hair, like it’s a reflex. “I’m sorry for all you’ve had to endure,” she says. “If I could find those men, I would make them pay for what they did to you.”

That’s so unexpected that Wanda moans with delight, and immediately she looks horrified. “I, I’m sorry,” she says, voice going quieter as she continues. “I just… I like my hair being touched.”

“You don’t need to apologize,” Sif replies. “If anything, I should apologize for not asking first. You just seemed as if you needed...comfort.”

“Thank you,” Wanda murmurs. “I promise that I liked it. Like it.”

“Alright.” Sif runs her fingers through Wanda’s hair, like she’s petting a cat. “How’s this?”

“It’s good,” Wanda says, this time clearly working to control her audible reactions. “Very good.”

“I don’t mind the noises,” Sif says. “If you’d like to make them. I don’t want you to feel that you can’t.”

Wanda bites her lip. “Alright,” she murmurs. “I just don’t want to be too…”

Sif can guess what Wanda means by that - too daring, maybe, or too inappropriate - and smiles. “You’re not,” she reassures her. “I’d like to help you, however I can.”

That’s a very polite response, and Wanda appreciates it, appreciates that Sif, who still barely knows her, is so invested in her well-being, but it still makes her pout a little. “I would like if it was more than just helping,” she mumbles.

Sif tilts her head. “I’m guessing you mean sex?” She doesn’t want to scare Wanda by being too blunt, but she’s guessing Wanda’s too anxious to come out and say it.

“Yes,” Wanda says. “Maybe. I don’t… it’s just… intimacy. I’d like to be intimate with you, and because we would both like to equally.” There’s a questioning note in her voice, but more because she doesn’t know if she’s properly articulating her feelings than because she doesn’t know what they are.

That makes Sif chuckle, but not unkindly. “You’re charming. What would you like tonight, then? Kissing? Closeness?”

“Something like that,” Wanda agrees, more than a little shy. She shouldn’t have to clarify, with what she already told Sif, that though she’s been physical with people before romantic nuances are still rather unknown to her.

Nodding, Sif leans forward to give Wanda a gentle kiss on the lips. “Like that?” she asks. “Shall we lie down?”

“Please?” Wanda whispers.

Sif tugs Wanda down until they’re lying on their sides, then puts one hand in her hair and kisses her again. “You’re beautiful,” she murmurs.

“Thank you,” Wanda murmurs, idly tracing her fingers over Sif’s back. “I don’t always feel it. It’s been made perfectly clear to me, before, that I am not what’s ideal to some, and even though those people are ones whose opinions don’t matter to me it comes back, sometimes. I still look like a teenager, and not a particularly healthy one at that. And some days, I don’t care at all. But I, I’m glad to be beautiful for you.”

Sif frowns. “I’m sorry that you’ve been made to feel lesser. I think you are beautiful, and strong and clever as well.”

“Thank you,” Wanda repeats. She doesn’t want to linger too long on her own insecurities, though they’re hard to avoid entirely, so she looks up at Sif and continues, “I would never have imagined I would win the favor of a goddess.” She’s not sure if that’s technically correct, but she knows that’s at least how Asgardians have been viewed before, so Sif should understand.

Snorting fondly, Sif replies, “That’s one way to describe me, I suppose.” She keeps petting Wanda’s hair. “You’re very sweet.”

“I mean it,” Wanda says earnestly. “You’re incredible. You’ve lived through so much, you’ve withstood. You’ve loved, and lost, and fought, and just kept on - it’s wonderful in a way I can hardly even describe.”

“As have you, Wanda,” Sif points out. “In many ways, you’ve survived through worse things than even I can imagine.”

“Sometimes it feels that whatever I do, it isn’t enough,” Wanda says shyly. “That no matter how hard I try, or what I do, my survival is only just, or by accident, or it hurts others.”

“I think that is how many warriors feel,” Sif admits. “Even I have felt that way at times. Especially of late, as I have survived the destruction of my home when so many of my companions have not, and my survival was essentially by chance. The important thing is that we endure, and protect and help those we can, including ourselves.”

“That’s the only thing keeping me going some days,” Wanda says. “Enduring, for the sake of - everyone that cannot. Much as I wish to see my parents again, my brother, I know that they would want me to make something good out of my life. I know that it’s important to do.”

Sif nods, kissing Wanda’s cheek. “It is. But enough of serious matters. Do you need to sleep? Asgardians generally need less sleep than Midgardians, but I don’t want to keep you awake if you’re tired.”

“Could we kiss more?” Wanda asks. “I like that, I’d like to do a bit more.”

“Of course,” Sif says, and she does. She experiments with running her fingers through Wanda’s hair as she kisses her.

“Oh, oh,” Wanda gasps, eyes fluttering shut. She presses against Sif instinctively, chases her hand with her head. “Yes, just like that.”

Sif smiles against Wanda’s mouth and pauses to murmur, “Would you like me to tug on it a bit? Gently, of course.”

“Try,” Wanda says breathily. That particular sensation isn’t one she’s used to, at least in this context, but she senses she’ll like it.

So Sif grabs a handful of Wanda’s hair and tugs on it while starting to kiss down her jaw toward her neck. It’s clear that while Wanda has had sex before, no one has taken the time to help her figure out what she likes and what makes her feel good. It’s not exactly a hardship helping with this.

“Yes,” Wanda says again, not quite moaning but almost. “That’s so…”

“So what?” teases Sif, starting to kiss and nibble Wanda’s neck.

“Like sparks,” Wanda declares. “In a pleasant way.” She doesn’t bother asking if that makes sense, because she knows from experience that if it - she - doesn’t Sif will just ask.

“That’s nice,” Sif says. “I like that description. And do you like this?” She carefully scrapes her teeth down Wanda’s neck before kissing the same spot.

“I think so,” Wanda hums. “Once more to be sure?”

So Sif obliges, petting Wanda’s hair as she does it.

“Oh, oh yes,” Wanda says. “You’re - that’s - I like that. I like you doing that.”

Sif focuses on her neck for awhile, using her lips and teeth and tongue and enjoying the noises Wanda makes as she does it. “You’re very responsive,” she says. “I like that.”

“Thank you?” Wanda laughs, definitely intending the question. “I react when I have cause to. Is that unusual?”

Smiling, Sif says, “It’s rarer than you might think. It’s refreshing. I like knowing you like what I’m doing.”

Wanda nods. “I’d like you to know if you make me happy,” she says. “I… I trust you, Sif, I see no reason to hold back with you.” And that’s what it comes down to really, trust. All of this is a show of trust.

“Thank you,” Sif says, kissing her forehead. “I’m honored that you trust me, after so short a time knowing me.”

“I do,” Wanda murmurs. “Sometimes, I think I just know.”

“It sounds a bit like...what do Midgardians call it? Magic?” Sif’s grinning as she pets Wanda’s hair again.

Wanda chuckles. “That would be one way to say it,” she agrees. “They call me the Scarlet Witch, you know. People who don’t understand what I do see it as magic, and in its way it is, I suppose, though there are more detailed explanations for it.”

“That’s amusing,” Sif replies. “Such a simplistic way of thinking. On Asgard some learn to use spells and sorcery, but we understand that it is a skill one is born with and must develop. It is no different from your powers.”

“It makes sense,” Wanda says. “I respect pure magic, though it’s not quite what I do. I would be interested to learn more.” She grins wryly, though this isn’t really funny. “I think half of why the world favors the name is the implication. Witches are often to be hunted.”

Sif shakes her head and says, “People often fear what they do not understand. I would not be surprised if many considered you to be fearsome based on that lack of understanding.”

“I think they consider me fearsome because they’ve seen how devastating what I do can be,” Wanda says. “I’ve thought that about myself before.”

“I suppose that makes sense,” Sif says. “But we are all dangerous in a variety of ways.” Her lips brush Wanda’s neck again. “Would you like me to kiss you more, or shall we sleep?”

“Just enough kissing that we go to bed on a pleasant note,” Wanda suggests.

 

* * *

 

When Sif wakes, it takes her a moment to reorient herself. Her arm is draped over something...no, some _one_.

Wanda’s still asleep, nestled close to Sif. She doesn’t seem likely to wake anytime soon, so Sif just watches her for awhile. It’s been a long time since she’s been content to simply watch someone sleep. Wanda’s brow is furrowed slightly, like she’s dreaming, but it doesn’t seem to be a nightmare.

Finally Wanda stirs and opens her eyes. “Good morning,” she murmurs, smiling shyly.

“Good morning, Wanda,” Sif says, kissing her on the lips. “I hope you slept well?”

“I did,” Wanda agrees, reaching to brush a bit of Sif’s hair behind her ear. “Did you?”

“Yes. As I said, we need much less sleep than you do, but I kept myself occupied. You look very sweet when you’re sleeping.”

That makes Wanda laugh, but almost nervously, like she’s not entirely sure what to make of that. How long has it been since she was called sweet in any context? “Thank you, I suppose,” she says. “I can’t say it’s done intentionally.”

“I know,” Sif says, grinning. “But it’s nice. Anyhow, shall we go downstairs for breakfast?”

“We should probably put more clothes on,” Wanda smirks. “But then, yes.”

“PIty,” replies Sif playfully. “I like you like this.”

“And I you,” Wanda says, sitting up without getting out of bed yet. “But what I like sharing with you and what I like sharing with everyone else are different.”

At that, Sif laughs. “A fair point. Unfortunately, my proper clothes are back in my room. Shall we dress and then meet each other outside our rooms?”

Wanda nods. “That would be best,” she says. “Although I feel I should warn you. If the others notice anything, you should brace yourself for questioning.”

“It can’t be any worse than my friends’ teasing,” Sif says, and then she realizes what she’s said and sighs. She’s tried to deny it, if only to herself, but she has a terrible feeling that the Warriors Three did not survive the fall of Asgard. “If Fandral, Hogun, and Volstagg were here, I’m sure they would happily join in. My brother didn’t mention their fate, but I fear it was to try to spare me from more grief.”

“Oh,” Wanda whispers, suddenly feeling she’s done the wrong thing. Before she can talk herself out of it, she reaches to lay a hand on Sif’s shoulder, attempting comfort. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to remind you of, or make you feel…”

Sif shakes her head. “It’s not your fault,” she says with a shaky smile. “I’m sorry as well. I don’t mean to distress you.”

“Don’t worry about me,” Wanda says, and she means it. “I can’t help but notice strong emotions, I would just rather not cause them. If, if you want to, to talk…” She bites her lip, not expecting that Sif will take her up on that offer but knowing she has to make it.

“No, but thank you for offering.” Sif leans over to kiss her forehead. “Right now, I’d like to go have breakfast with you.”

“Breakfast,” Wanda agrees. She climbs out of bed and goes toward her closet, glancing back at Sif almost coyly.

Sif chuckles. “I should leave now, or I’ll want to kiss you and not stop.”

“Go, then,” Wanda says, trying for teasing. “Soon.”

“Yes,” Sif agrees, winking at Wanda before she closes the door behind her.

A few minutes later, she and Wanda meet in the hallway, both wearing outfits with more coverage. “Shall we?” Sif asks, nodding at the stairs.

“We shall,” Wanda replies with a smirk. “It smells like Sam is already making something.”

Sif offers her hand, and Wanda takes it a bit shyly. When they walk into the kitchen, Sam’s working on a stack of fluffy golden pancakes, Steve is sipping coffee and reading the newspaper, and Clint and Scott are engaging in what seems to be a thumb war.

“Sometimes Clint is more of a father figure, but sometimes he is just as childish as anyone,” Wanda whispers to Sif, amused.

“I think that’s just how many men are,” Sif murmurs in Wanda’s ear.

Steve glances up from his paper, raising an eyebrow at the women. “We were wondering when you would be down,” he says, in a way that probably means four different things.

Clint, finally noticing them, openly stares. “Wait,” he says. “How long has _this_ been going on?”

Wanda looks at Sif and squeezes her hand, and it’s foolish because she _knew_ the boys were going to say something, she did, but between the way Clint looks at them and how startled he sounds she suddenly isn’t sure how to respond. She really, really hopes that Sif can understand this and reply, hopefully in a way that’s clever enough to stop any attitude.

Sif just rolls her eyes. “It’s not my fault if you can’t pay attention to things other than yourself, Barton,” she snarks, with a wink in Wanda’s direction.

Naturally, this makes Wanda turn bright red and stare at her feet, but she’s pleased.

“Uh,” Steve says, “well. I’m glad you’re happy…?” He’s not sure how to react, and it’s more than obvious.

“Do I have to give a shovel talk?” teases Sam.

Sif frowns. “I’m unsure what you mean by ‘shovel talk.’”

“Oh, it’s like, the kind of talk friends give to friends’ dates. Hurt her and I’ll beat you to death with a shovel. A vague disclaimer is nobody’s friend.” Sam’s grinning.

Clint snickers. “Nice _Buffy_ quote.”

Sif also laughs. “I see. Well, it is a noble thought, Sam, if somewhat amusingly unthreatening to me.”

“Oh!” Scott chimes in. “Someone’s had the protection talk with you, right?” He looks earnestly at Wanda. “I don’t know how they do it in Asgard, and I don’t really know how girls do it with other girls either, but if you give me a minute I can look it up and give you the basic idea. I guess Hydra probably weren’t that keen on safe sex practices?”

Wanda scrunches up her face, more embarrassed than she’s probably ever been in her entire life. Talking about her sex life _and_ the time she spent with Hydra with someone who’s not someone involved in either thing is a little too much. “I understand protection,” she says very quietly. It’s one of those comparatively rarer times that her nervousness leads to offering too many words instead of too few. “I’m not wholly inexperienced, and I was never foolish enough to think the information those people provided about sexual relationships was thorough enough that I didn’t need to do independent research.”

At this point Steve looks just about as embarrassed, but he wisely chooses to stare into his coffee instead of saying anything.

Sif pulls Wanda a little closer and adds, smirking, “It might surprise you to learn that Asgard is quite advanced when it comes to sexual and reproductive safety. Much more so than you Midgardians, in fact.”

Scott blushes and quickly says, “Just checking.”

Wanda worries her lip for a moment before she asks, “Breakfast?”

“Pancakes!” Sam says, too loud. He gestures to the plate piled high with pancakes. “Take some.”

Clearly still amused, Sif goes to get plates. “How many would you like?” she asks Wanda.

“Two for now,” Wanda says, offering a shy smile. “Would you like coffee?”

“Coffee sounds good,” says Sif. She piles a plate with five pancakes for herself and grabs another with Wanda’s two before sitting down at the table, pulling out the chair next to her. “Thank you.”

Wanda comes to the table with mugs and pours coffee for the both of them, focusing intently on Sif and not the way the boys are all staring. “Thank _you_ ,” she murmurs, clearly fond.

Clint clears his throat and then says, “So. What’s everyone up to today?”

“Steve and I were gonna go into town,” Sam offers.

“Yeah, if you have anything you want us to get, just add it to the list,” Steve says, nodding to an actual handwritten grocery list magneted to the fridge.

“I thought I might train some,” Sif says. “Wanda, would you like to join me?”

“Yes, thank you,” Wanda nods, and not just because it means she’s got an excuse to skip going into town (which she usually tries to find).

Clint raises an eyebrow. “Stay out of the barn, okay?” It seems like an innocuous statement, but everyone knows what he really means.

“We’ll try,” Wanda smirks. Being silly seems like an easier reaction, although it doesn’t come entirely naturally.

 

* * *

 

After they’ve trained with the wooden branch-swords for awhile, Sif asks, “Would you show me your power?”

Wanda furrows her brow. “What do you want to see?” she asks. She’s been wary, to say the least, of using her abilities beyond very low-level things like unavoidable intuition or idle stims.

“Anything you feel comfortable with,” Sif says. “I don’t want to push you. I simply thought that I might be able to incorporate some of your powers into your sword lessons, if you wanted.”

“I would feel most comfortable with some… instructions, I think,” Wanda says slowly. “I don’t want to get - well.” Out of control, not that that’s nearly as much of an issue as she’s been made to think by others.

“Alright.” Sif picks up her makeshift sword-stick. “If I hold this out here-” She extends her arm so the stick is as far away from her body as possible. “Try to get it out of my hand or break it somehow.”

Wanda nods. That sort of thing is second nature to her, not _quite_ child’s play but close. She concentrates for a moment, calling up some of her red light and, quick as she can, sending it to wrap around the exposed end of the stick. With a lift of her hands, then, she pulls it from Sif’s grasp and twirls it in the air for a moment before snapping it neatly in half.

Sif nods too, slowly, like she’s thinking. “Interesting. How much can you lift, how strong is your power?”

“I can lift people,” Wanda says, if timidly. “I’ve lifted Steve before.”

“Oh.” Sif raises an eyebrow, impressed. “So a broadsword should be no trouble then. Good.”

“I imagine lifting it normally would be harder for me, at least at first,” Wanda agrees.

“You’ll grow used to it, in time,” Sif promises. “Do you think you’re ready to try mine?”

“I’ll try,” Wanda says. “Don’t laugh?”

Smiling at her, Sif winks and says, “I wouldn’t dream of it.”

“What should I do, then?” Wanda asks.

Sif goes to retrieve her sword from its sheath. “I’ll stand behind you and make sure you’re gripping it properly,” she says, moving accordingly.

“Alright,” Wanda murmurs, trying to get into the fighting stance Sif coached her on before. Sif places Wanda’s hands on the sword hilt, adjusting them as needed.

“A bit tighter,” Sif says, nodding as Wanda obliges. “Yes, like that. How is it, too heavy?”

“It’s certainly heavy,” Wanda says, “but not _too_. It’s not unbearable, just noticeable.”

“Good,” says Sif approvingly. “Are you ready for me to let go, then?”

“Almost,” Wanda says. “Am I positioned correctly?” It’s possible she just doesn’t want to break contact yet.

Sif chuckles, like she’s figured out Wanda’s motivations. “Bend your knees a little more,” she says, placing her hands on Wanda’s waist and gently adjusting her.

Wanda can’t help it, Sif’s touch makes her sigh a little bit, clearly pleased. But she bends her knees as instructed, bouncing in place just a little. “Like this?”

“Yes, that’s good.” Sif runs her hand across Wanda’s waist playfully, smirking. “You just like having me close to you, don’t you?”

“So what if I do?” Wanda asks, tone light.

“Well, I’m flattered,” Sif teases, “but I feel as if it might impact your training a bit.”

Wanda sighs, but teasingly. “Fine,” she says. “What now?”

“Try swinging it a bit,” says Sif, backing out of reach of the sword.

“Alright,” Wanda agrees, and she tries, though she’s not quite sure _how_ to swing it and as such it’s done rather clumsily.

“Not quite, but it was a good first effort.” Sif smiles fondly. “You should treat the sword as an extension of your arm rather than a separate object. May I?” Gently taking her sword from Wanda, she slashes it through the air a few times, then tosses a pine cone up into the air and effortlessly slices it in half. “You see?”

“Yes,” Wanda murmurs. “You’re so natural with it. When I hold weapons I just feel awkward.”

“It will become easier with practice,” Sif says, trying for reassuring.

“Show me again?” Wanda says softly, and there’s just enough playfulness in her tone that it might not just be a request to study technique.

Sif tosses her head and grins, running through a few more basic drills for Wanda’s benefit. “You like watching me?” she says, eyes gleaming.

“I do,” Wanda admits shyly. “You’re clearly passionate, and you’re strong, so strong.”

“Would you rather we abandon training for today and find...another way to occupy our time?”

The suggestion shouldn’t be a surprise - Wanda knows that she was looking for something like it - but it’s just blunt enough that she blushes. “Perhaps,” she says, mostly to the ground. “It’s not that I don’t want to learn…”

“There’ll be time to learn later,” Sif says. “I can see I’m a _distraction_ for you at the moment.” She reaches for Wanda’s hand.

Wanda gladly squeezes Sif’s hand, but she can’t help but murmur, “Is that alright? I want - for you, I want to be…” Good, but that’s somehow too difficult to say so simply.

“Of course,” Sif says. “Shall we go inside? The barn is forbidden, as I understand.” She grins mischievously.

“I don’t think I’d like laying on straw very much anyway,” Wanda muses. “Inside is safer.”

Sif snickers. “It’s quite uncomfortable, yes.” She leads Wanda back toward the house. “I suppose we’ll have to make sure Clint and Scott aren’t around to eavesdrop,” she muses, grinning.

“I could soundproof the room,” Wanda says, smirking. “I did once before, before I went to sleep, but Steve told me not to again when he found out, in case - well.” In case she was in any danger of harming herself or others, not unlike she could have been the first night Sif found her in the throes of a nightmare. She’s sure it’s obvious. “I’m sure it’s a different matter if there’s someone in my room with me, though, and I doubt I’ll need any rescuing.”

“If you do, I’ll be happy to assist,” Sif teases. “Though you’re perfectly capable of rescuing yourself, if need be.”

Her first instinct is to argue that - when she’s her own danger, it’s not quite the same - but she knows there’s no point. Instead she says, “I’m honored.”

Sif squeezes her hand and, once they’re inside, she quickly glances around to ensure neither of Wanda’s friends are around. “I think soundproofing might be a good idea,” she says. “I’m not known for being quiet.” She smirks.

Wanda’s eyes go wide. “I’m not sure what I am, really,” she says. “I don’t think most of my past experiences were anything to go by, and it’s different when you take care of yourself - oh!” She blushes wildly. Somehow, making plans to sleep with Sif is less embarrassing than mentioning masturbation to her.

Charmed, Sif leans over to kiss her. “We’ll find out together,” she whispers. “I’m looking forward to that.”

“Me too,” Wanda whispers, and she rises up on her toes to give Sif a kiss before she can second-guess herself.

Sif smiles against her lips. “Shall we?” she asks, nodding upstairs.

Suddenly too shy for words, Wanda nods. It’s true what she told Sif before, she’s had lovers, or if not lovers then at least sexual partners, but this feels somehow like starting over.

“I don’t want to do anything you aren’t ready for,” Sif says. “Only what you want, alright?”

Wanda nods again. “I want you,” she whispers, even though it feels like a bad line.

And it does make Sif laugh a bit, though not in a mean way. “Good,” she murmurs, starting to walk upstairs. “I want you too.”

“Thank you,” Wanda breathes, walking more quickly up the stairs, practically skipping even.

“You’re adorable,” Sif says fondly, pausing once they’re in front of Wanda’s room.

“I don’t know if anyone’s called me that before,” Wanda murmurs.

“Well, I think you are. Shall we?” Sif nods at Wanda’s door, which is still closed. She doesn’t feel right letting herself in.

“Yes,” Wanda says, and she turns the doorknob and tugs Sif inside in one swift motion.

Sif nudges Wanda toward the bed, kissing her as she goes. “Is this alright?” she asks once they’re sitting down.

“Yes,” Wanda says adamantly. “Let me just…” And she breaks away just enough to cast a bit of what might as well be magic in the room to allow them their privacy no matter how loud they get. “It should hold, anyway.”

“Thank you,” Sif says, reaching up to pet Wanda’s hair. “What would you like first?”

“I’m not sure,” Wanda admits. “Would you show me what you like best?”

“Of course, but first, may I undress you?”

Wanda nods. “I wish I was more exciting for you,” she murmurs.

“You’re plenty exciting,” promises Sif. “I don’t select partners based on how exciting they are. I like _you_ , Wanda.”

This is another surprise-that-shouldn’t-be, and Wanda can’t help but glance away as she says, “I’m sorry. I think that’s difficult for me to grasp.”

Sif strokes Wanda’s hair again. “I can assure you I mean it.”

“I believe you,” Wanda says. “It is just…” She shrugs. What it comes down to is that she’s not used to people wanting her for her, but that seems too sad to say.

Sif kisses Wanda, gentle but firm, and then says, “I don’t want you to worry about anyone else for now, alright? Just focus on being a good girl for me. You’d like that, wouldn’t you?” She’s taking a bit of a gamble with that, but based on what she knows about Wanda and seeing how the girl reacts to her, Sif’s fairly confident that will be well-received.

Wanda feels her stomach flip and she nods, much too quickly. “Yes,” she whispers. “Yes, please.”

“Good,” hums Sif. “Let’s get this off, shall we?” She reaches to ease Wanda’s pullover over her head, then smiles when she sees Wanda’s bra. It’s not lingerie, but it’s obvious Wanda put some thought into it rather than just throwing on the first bra she could find. “Lovely,” Sif says, leaning over to kiss both Wanda’s breasts.

“Thank you,” Wanda breathes out. Though she knows Sif won’t mind her reacting she doesn’t want to seem like she’s taken apart by every little thing; she tries not to hold back but at least to temper her reactions at first.

Sif smiles and reaches around to undo the clasp on Wanda’s bra. “Midgardian undergarments have changed since the last time I was here,” she observes. “Or, at least, since the last time I got a good look at them.” She grins wolfishly.

Wanda laughs, a little nervously. “When was that?” she asks.

“It was before SHIELD was established,” Sif responds, fondling Wanda’s breasts almost idly. “I met up with its founder while she was still a young agent and, well.” She laughs too. “We had a very pleasant evening.”  She starts mouthing at Wanda’s nipple.

That makes Wanda sigh, loudly, but she can’t help but say, in case Sif would want to know, “I’ve heard many good stories about her. She and Steve were important to each other.” It’s bad news, and not the place to share it, but she hurries to add, “He was one of the men in her funeral, just… just before everything.”

“I’m glad,” Sif says. “But anyhow.” She sucks on Wanda’s nipple for a minute and then pauses to ask, “Is that good, do you like it?”

“I do,” Wanda agrees, leaning one hand back against the bed to steady herself. “Very much.”

With a satisfied noise, Sif sucks on first one breast and then the other. “These are beautiful,” she murmurs. “No one’s given them much attention before me, hm?”

“No,” Wanda murmurs, feeling embarrassed even if it’s not her own fault. “I haven’t… my lovers have never been that considerate.”

“I’m sorry,” Sif says, kissing them. “I’d like to make up for that, if I may.”

The combination of words and actions makes Wanda sigh happily, and all she can really do is nod, eager and breathless.

Once Sif is content that she’s paid a proper amount of attention to Wanda’s chest, she moves up to kiss and nibble her neck while she tugs Wanda’s leggings off. It’s not long before Wanda is completely naked, and Sif pauses to look at her. “Beautiful,” she says.

Wanda squeaks, clearly delighted, and offers an even shyer “Thank you.”

“You’re sweet,” Sif murmurs. She kisses down Wanda’s body, not hurrying but taking her time. Finally she reaches Wanda’s center. “Is this alright?” she asks, gently stroking it a bit.

Wanda can’t help but shiver, but delightedly. “Yes, yes,” she murmurs.

“Good,” Sif replies, touching her a bit more firmly. She kisses Wanda on the lips as she does.

“I didn’t know I could feel this way,” Wanda confesses breathlessly.

That makes Sif grin. “I’m happy to help you with that,” she says, starting to play with Wanda’s clit.

“Oh!” Wanda cries, holding tight to her sheets. “Oh, that’s…”

“Good?” Sif teases, as if she couldn’t tell that Wanda’s enjoying herself.

Frantically this time, Wanda nods. “So good,” she manages.

“I think we should test the soundproofing on this room,” Sif says, as if she’s just thinking idly and not in the middle of getting Wanda off. “I’d like to hear how much you’re enjoying yourself.”

“Oh?” Wanda squeaks. “I, I am.”

Sif nods and speeds up her movements. She’s fairly sure she could’ve finished Wanda off awhile ago, but she’s enjoying the slower buildup, and clearly Wanda is too.

“Like _that_ ,” Wanda groans, suddenly bucking her hips against Sif’s hand.

Reaching out with her other hand to steady Wanda’s movements, Sif leans down to kiss Wanda’s neck again.

Wanda takes a deep breath, hurrying to push her hair out of the way so Sif has better access to her skin. That’s an incredibly sensitive place to be kissed, more than she could have imagined.

“Good,” Sif murmurs, scraping her teeth on Wanda’s neck. Her fingers still circle Wanda’s clit.

“Say it again?” Wanda whispers, only even half aware of it.

Sif laughs playfully. “Say what,” she says, punctuating her words with kisses, “that you’re being very good?”

Shyly, Wanda nods, and instead of saying anything she lifts her hand to Sif’s waist, resting there, gently caressing.

Making a satisfied noise, Sif keeps kissing and touching Wanda, murmuring sweet things to her, until she finally wails and shudders through her climax. “Beautiful,” she says once Wanda’s calmed.

Wanda blinks in surprise - it shouldn’t be one, but it always will be, that word - and manages a hazy smile that she hopes will substitute for a thank you. Once again, her tongue isn’t cooperating, but it’s for the most pleasant reason she can imagine.

Sif, understanding, pets Wanda’s hair and kisses her forehead. “Good girl,” she whispers, just to see how Wanda will react to that.

Well, if the way Wanda can feel her whole body blush is any indication; she arches up against Sif’s hand, chasing what contact she can, and shuts her eyes contentedly.

“No one’s come upstairs to investigate,” Sif continues, grinning, “so I suppose that means your soundproofing worked too.”

That makes Wanda grin too, lazily, and she shrugs in a smug way like _well, why wouldn’t it?_ She hums in the back of her throat and pulls Sif toward her, suggesting a cuddle.

Sif obligingly nestles Wanda closer to her, starting to rub her back. “There are other things we can do,” she says, “but I thought I’d start with something simple and which you were likely familiar with.”

“Yes,” Wanda manages to say - yes, she’s familiar. “But not… not like…” Not like that. It didn’t feel like that before.

“Well, I’m glad to have helped, then,” Sif says cheerfully.

“You did,” Wanda promises, and she leans over to kiss Sif, not in any hurry.

Sif kisses back. “If you’d like to sleep for a bit, that would be fine,” she says. “I can just hold you.”

“M’not tired,” Wanda murmurs. “But I’d like being held.”

“Very well,” Sif replies, running a hand though Wanda’s hair. “Then I’ll do that.”

“Tha-ank you,” Wanda says, her voice catching. “You’re…”

Kissing Wanda’s cheek, Sif asks, tone light, “I’m what?”

Wanda shakes her head, trying to take time to find the right word. “You’re, you’re - thrilling.” She grins, clearly pleased.

“Thank _you_ ,” Sif says. She looks smug as she adds, “I don’t know that anyone has ever described me in quite that way before.”

“It’s true,” Wanda swears, earnest as she can be. “Feel my, my heart.” She places Sif’s hand over her heart accordingly, nodding.

Sif does, her smugness giving way to an expression that’s somewhere between fond amusement and awe. “You’re sweet,” she murmurs.

“I mean it,” Wanda replies. “I haven’t felt, ah, haven’t felt…”

“I’m sorry for that,” Sif says. “You deserve better, Wanda. You deserve lovers who will cherish you.”

It’s funny, because this isn’t even something Wanda thinks about a lot of the time. Physical intimacy was something she initially sought because she felt like she should, and after that it’s only really occurred to her when she feels a connection to someone. But that’s what Sif is saying, isn’t it? That she deserves that connection?

“Thank you,” she says softly, gaze falling.

“Of course,” Sif replies, kissing her again.

 

* * *

 

Neither of them keep track of how long they lie there, mostly just talking softly. At some point Clint rings the dinner bell and Sif laughs. “I suppose we’d better go pretend we’ve been productive today,” she says, eyes gleaming.

“Yes,” Wanda agrees playfully. “We certainly did… things.”

Sif gives her a quick kiss on the lips before gently untangling herself from Wanda and sitting up. “But not things you’d want them to know about, I assume.”

“Not really,” Wanda says. “This is nobody’s business but ours.”

“Of course.” Sif runs her hand down Wanda’s cheek affectionately, then stands up. “I’m sorry, I think I tossed your clothes all over your room in my haste.” She retrieves Wanda’s leggings from the floor and offers them with a grin that’s almost sheepish.

“Don’t mind,” Wanda murmurs, smiling sheepishly. “It was - you’re worth it.”

“Thank you,” says Sif. “I certainly think that of you.”

They make their way downstairs a few minutes later, only stopping to kiss a few times, and once they do Clint looks up from his seat and says, much too casually, “So. How was _your_ day?”

“Satisfactory,” Sif replies without missing a beat. “I trained Wanda in swordsmanship for awhile and then she retired to her room to rest. I was sharpening my sword.”

There’s a noise from the other end of the table, somewhere between a snort and a giggle, and Scott (the culprit) does his best to look innocent. “That’s important,” he says.

Wanda glances up just long enough to shoot him a warning look - not quite a glare, but it’s a look that implies (correctly) that she knows what he’s thinking - before turning her attention back to her silverware and napkin. “I learned a lot,” she says simply.

“Good,” Steve says, though of course he’s trying to figure out how euphemistically that’s meant. “Town was the same as ever.”

“The ol’ baseball cap-and-Aviators trick still works,” says Sam with a lazy grin. “It’s convenient as hell.”

Sif raises an eyebrow. “I’m unsure what you mean.”

Clint snickers. “Well, somebody at SHIELD figured out awhile ago that if you just wear a baseball hat and sunglasses, nobody will figure out you’re wearing a disguise. Apparently.”

“Sometimes you can use regular glasses instead,” Steve chimes in, slightly sheepish. “And women don’t always have to wear a hat.”

“No,” Wanda agrees, smiling playfully, “but if we change our hairstyle that also works.” To Sif she explains, “My hair is much darker, naturally.”

“I think it looks nice no matter what,” Clint says loyally, in his best supportive dad voice.

Of course, this makes Wanda roll her eyes, but fondly. “Thank you,” she says.

“As do I,” Sif says, grinning and leaning over to kiss Wanda’s cheek.

Wanda squirms, but she’s clearly pleased. “The point,” she continues, smirking, “is that people are sometimes very unobservant.”

After dinner, they all opt to watch a movie - Sam picks, but neither Wanda nor Sif are really paying attention because Sif grabs Wanda and holds her close under a blanket, taking over the couch. “Is this alright?” she asks, smiling.

“Yes,” Wanda says; even though she can feel her heart speeding up again, she knows it’s in the good way. “It’s comfortable.”

“Good,” Sif says, petting her hair.

They’re about halfway through the movie when Sif leans over to whisper in Wanda’s ear, “Would you like to play a game?”

“Yes,” Wanda says immediately, soft enough that the boys won’t hear. “What kind of game?”

“Do you think you could stay quiet if I touched you?” Sif murmurs.

Wanda bites her lip. “Touched how?” she asks softly.

“Anywhere you like,” says Sif, “but I was thinking here.” She gently reaches down to run her hand over Wanda’s thighs, then her crotch.

“Oh,” Wanda says, eyes going wide. “I, I could try?”

“Only if you want,” Sif reassures her. “I don’t want to do anything you’re not comfortable with.”

“I’d like to try,” Wanda promises. “I really would.”

“I know you’ll be good,” says Sif, mostly to see Wanda’s reaction.

Wanda nods eagerly, leaning just a bit closer to Sif. “I want to be, for you,” she whispers.

“Thank you.” Sif carefully snakes her hand under Wanda’s shirt and fondles her breast, almost casual.

“Of course,” Wanda murmurs, trying to keep her breathing steady.

Sif takes her time, gently playing with Wanda’s nipples for awhile before stroking down her body and reaching into her leggings. “Still good?” she breathes into Wanda’s ear.

“Yes,” Wanda says, and she even rolls her hips against Sif’s hand encouragingly.

“Careful now,” teases Sif. “Don’t want the boys to figure out what we’re doing.”

Wanda glances around the room - Scott is nodding off, Clint actually seems to be paying attention to the movie, Steve and Sam are halfway snuggling themselves. “I think we’ll be fine,” she says.

Sif nods and starts to rub at Wanda’s clit lightly. “Alright,” she says, and then puts Wanda’s hand on her other arm. “If you want me to stop at any point, tap my arm three times.”

“I will,” Wanda says, trying to disguise the catch in her voice.

“Good girl,” Sif murmurs, “you’re already doing well.”

“Thank you,” Wanda whispers, smiling shyly.

Sif keeps touching her, once or twice kissing Wanda to swallow the little sounds she lets out. “Still alright?” she asks, since it’s becoming increasingly difficult for Wanda to keep quiet.

“Think so,” Wanda says softly. “It’s - you’re being -” She interrupts herself to just nod adamantly.

Humming in satisfaction, Sif says, “You deserve to feel this way, Wanda.”

“Thank you,” Wanda repeats. “I - you -” She looks up at Sif wide-eyed, suddenly afraid she’s being selfish. “You too.”

“You can take care of me later,” Sif says, smiling. “Right now I want to focus on you.”

Wanda worries her bottom lip, but she nods. “Alright,” she whispers. “You feel… nice.”

“Good,” says Sif with a low chuckle. She keeps stroking around and across Wanda’s clit, peppering kisses on the back of Wanda’s neck.

In response to that, Wanda sighs sharply, clearly redirecting her desire to say something into that. “This is quite a game,” she whispers.

“Are you enjoying it?” Sif asks.

“Yes,” Wanda says. “Yes, I… it’s very…” She interrupts herself with a little gasp, then promptly looks horrified.

“Ssh,” whispers Sif in her ear, slowing down her movements a little. “Be good, now.”

“I’m trying,” Wanda murmurs anxiously. “I just wasn’t expecting…”

Sif nods. “You’re doing well. Do you want me to stop? We can retire if you’d like.”

Wanda thinks about this for a moment, then nods shyly. “I think that might be best,” she admits.

“Alright,” Sif says, grinning and kissing Wanda once more. She rearranges herself so Wanda can get up without any trouble, then says, “Clint, I do believe I will retire for the night. I’m tired.”

Clint, who’s the only one left awake and in the room by this point, startles. (Apparently he had been quite involved in the movie.) “Oh,” he says, blinking. “Yeah, sure. Night.”

Wanda waits all of thirty seconds before adding, “Me too. Good night.”

They make their way upstairs, and once they’re inside Wanda’s room Sif says, “Are you familiar with cunnilingus at all, Wanda?”

“I know about it,” Wanda murmurs, frowning. “I’ve never let anyone perform it on me, or performed it on anyone, though. It was never the right time.”

“Do you think you’d be comfortable trying it?” Sif asks.

Wanda’s eyes go impossibly wide. “Would you like that?” she squeaks.

“I would, but only if you’d like to. There are other things I can teach you if you’d rather not try that right now.”

“I, I’d like to,” Wanda promises. “I just don’t know if I’ll be good.” And on top of that, she’s still feeling fairly aroused herself, but she doesn’t want to complain.

“It’s alright,” Sif reassures her. She reaches to pet Wanda’s hair. “I know you’ll be good for me, and that’s the important thing.”

Wanda nods, rolling her head delightedly. “How should we…?” She nods to the bed, though it’s clearly a question.

“Well, let me undress first,” says Sif with a grin. She starts to peel off her clothes, then pauses. “I think you should as well.”

“Alright,” Wanda murmurs, doing so quickly, setting her clothes in her laundry hamper, and quickly soundproofing the room again. “Now?”

“Now,” Sif says, settling herself so she’s lying on Wanda’s bed, “come here and kiss me.”

Wanda takes a deep breath and nods, curling up beside Sif and very gently kissing her mouth.

Sif hums and returns the kiss, wrapping her arms around Wanda’s shoulders. “Good,” she murmurs. “Feel free to take your time. I like a lot of attention.”

“I know I can do _that_ ,” Wanda says, grinning. “You deserve a lot of attention.” And to back this point up, she goes in for another kiss, deeper this time, and very tentatively puts her hand on Sif’s waist.

Sif sighs into her mouth. “Good,” she says approvingly. “That’s very nice.”

“Good,” Wanda echoes, trying to repeat whatever she’s doing that makes Sif’s voice sound like that. She can feel their bodies growing warmer, especially where they make the most contact, and she’d like to keep that up too.

“You can use teeth if you like,” Sif says. “You won’t hurt me.”

Wanda nods, nipping Sif’s bottom lip experimentally. “Like…?”

“Yes,” nods Sif. “And other places too, when you get there. I like roughness sometimes.” She grins.

“Alright,” Wanda murmurs. She nuzzles against Sif’s neck for a minute, thoughtful almost.

“You’re very sweet,” Sif says. “It’s charming.”

“Thank you?” Wanda laughs. “I suppose I like charming you, though I’m not entirely trying.”

“That’s why it’s charming.” Sif gently nudges Wanda toward her breasts. “They won’t bite,” she teases.

Wanda hides her face between them for a moment, still giggling. “I didn’t imagine they would,” she murmurs, “but you’ll like it if I do, yes?” She doesn’t wait for an answer before wrapping her lips around one of Sif’s nipples, then oh-so-slightly biting.

Sif moans softly. “Yes, that’s good,” she encourages. “More of that, please.”

So Wanda does more of that, sucking and nipping and lightly licking, eventually pulling back just enough to look up at Sif curiously.

Sif’s nodding, and says, “Good girl, you’re wonderful. You can keep doing that for a bit longer if you want.”

“Yes,” Wanda mumbles without even lifting her head. She tries to recall the attention Sif paid her earlier and imitate it, she tries to do whatever she thinks she would like.

Sif’s letting out moans and sighs and reaches to gently tangle her fingers in Wanda’s hair. “Thank you,” she murmurs.

“Of course,” Wanda whispers, pressing kisses in a random pattern over Sif’s breasts. “You taste very good.”

That makes Sif laugh warmly. “I’m glad you’re enjoying yourself.” She uses the hand in Wanda’s hair to move Wanda’s head down a bit. “Keep going.”

“Okay,” Wanda agrees, adjusting herself and kissing a trail down Sif’s abdomen. She can’t help but look up at Sif for reassurance she’s doing this correctly.

Sif smiles. “That’s good,” she says, “you’re doing well so far.”

Wanda smiles. “Good,” she murmurs. “What should I do now?”

Sif lifts her hips a bit. “You can get started,” she encourages. “Just explore with your mouth and tongue.”

“Alright,” Wanda whispers, sure she’s blushing, sure she couldn’t stop blushing if she tried. She takes a deep breath and moves to kiss across Sif’s pelvis, then lower - she knows the words, of course, but she can’t think some of them right now, they sound far too clinical. Instead her internal monologue stays in the vague realm of romance novel language.

Nodding, Sif pets Wanda’s hair a bit. “That’s nice,” she says. “Keep going.”

Wanda nods, starting to add some tongue. “You taste good here too,” she offers.

Sif huffs a laugh. “So I’ve been told,” she says playfully. “Glad you’re enjoying it.”

“I am,” Wanda says, and then, very shyly, she adds, “Inside?”

“Yes please,” nods Sif.

So Wanda licks inside of Sif. She gets a rhythm going, tentative at first but then more assured; she places hands on Sif’s hips as much to steady herself as anything.

Sif sighs and starts moving against Wanda’s mouth. “Good,” she hums.

She lets Wanda lick at her for awhile and then reaches down to touch her own clit. “Try sucking here,” she says. “Like I was touching you before.”

“Oh,” Wanda gasps. “Alright, I…” She decides it’s better to act than discuss it, so she carefully wraps her lips around Sif’s clit and starts to suck. “Like?” she adds, nearly inaudibly.

“Yes,” Sif says. “Good girl.” She keeps coaxing and encouraging Wanda for a few more minutes until finally she yelps and orgasms.

“Yes?” Wanda asks, blinking up at Sif hopefully.

Sif nods vigorously, pulling Wanda up for a kiss. “Very well done,” she says, seeming proud. “I’d say you’ve more than earned a reward.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this is technically complete, but we're leaving it open-ended in case these girls need more nice things later. (They will.)


End file.
